


The Summer

by akikotree, mybeanieandme



Series: San Francisco Dance AU [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Ireland, LA, M/M, Music, Road Trips, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/pseuds/mybeanieandme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The whole song was like that night. Yearning, searching, precious, unsatisfying, over too soon. It had the closeness of good friends and the unease of a huge city at night- bright and dark, familiar and foreign. </i>
</p><p>Liam and Zayn have joined Niall and Ed's road trip tour of Ireland. Harry and Louis are in LA. They are all going to have a hundred stories to tell before the summer is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ireland

Liam turned slowly in the crowded and gleaming airport entryway. He was looking for Zayn. It was mid-afternoon and the Dublin airport was full of a mass of arriving and departing passengers, but he didn't see Zayn anywhere. Liam fumbled his phone out of his pocket to check his latest texts. Zayn's flight had come in over half an hour ago, and he'd sent “Waiting in Terminal 2 under big yellow metal sculpture thing with circles.” Liam glanced around again. He didn't see any other big yellow sculptures around here...

“Liam! Hey!” There was Zayn's voice, cutting through the rumble of wheeled suitcases and footsteps. Liam turned around to find its source and let out a surprised laugh. He didn't have time for anything more before Zayn had reached him and was on him and hugging him. Liam dropped his carryon to hug Zayn back just as hard. It had been almost a month since he'd last seen Zayn, at the end of the spring semester. They'd texted or called every singe day since then, but that wasn't the same at all. Zayn was solid and warm and real in his arms. 

“Didn't'ja hear me? Said your name three times,” Zayn was saying. “A huge group of strollers was blocking m'way...” 

“Sorry, didn't hear,” said Liam, before exclaiming, “Your hair...!” He pulled one hand free to run it across Zayn's soft buzzed hair- it was about six inches shorter than when Liam had seen him last and bleached so thoroughly it was almost white. 

“It's shorter than mine,” Liam muttered. Zayn's jacket was new too, black leather with zippers on the sleeves. No wonder Liam hadn't spotted him. 

“Yeh, I know!” Zayn laughed. “Did it on a whim. D'you like it?” 

“Yeah,” said Liam. “Just surprised me is all! Not what I was looking for.” 

Liam ran his fingers once more over the short hair, his hand coming to rest at the back of Zayn's neck. Zayn was smiling at him, pleased and happy and incredibly fond. 

“Yeah,” Liam said again. “I really like it.” 

Zayn tipped his chin up then and kissed Liam, just for a moment. A _hello,_ and _I'm glad,_ and _I've missed you._ Liam wanted to hold onto it because it was the sweetest thing- like the first bite of a ripe nectarine at the height of summer. But Zayn pulled back and a second later was tugging at Liam's hand. 

“C'mon then, we should go,” said Zayn. “Niall's already here in the van, been going around the loop for ages, but I made him wait until I met you.” 

“Niall's- Niall's driving?” Liam scooped up his bag and followed. “I thought I was driving!” That had been one of Niall's main points as to why Liam and Zayn should come on his Ireland tour in the first place- so that Liam could drive and Zayn could help with the gear. Liam didn't know how much gear Niall and his music friend could possibly have, but he supposed it never hurt to have some extra hands. Plus, there were other incentives to coming on this trip... like... things that he and Zayn might possibly want to do while staying in a hotel room....? Maybe? Hopefully? They hadn't specifically talked about that but Liam had packed condoms and lube just in case? He was glad he had even though the knowledge that the airport security people could probably see them in his luggage had been kind of embarrassing. Liam felt a bit tingly and warm just thinking about it and even more so when Zayn reached out for his hand seemingly without a second thought, like it was easy, like it was expected. The warmth that was spreading through him from their clasped hands was reason enough to be here, in Liam's opinion. 

Niall turned out to be driving a beat-up silvery-blue Toyota Previa which was, quite possibly, older than himself. There was another guy already sitting in the passenger seat- Niall's band mate, that must be. 

“Wey hey!” Niall yelled as Zayn and Liam climbed into the bench seat in the middle of the van. It was their only option, as the rear seats had been folded down and the back of the car was three quarters full of what looked like an excessive amount of unidentifiable black boxes with reinforced metal corners, guitar cases, folded stands, and loops of extension cord. “You made it!”

“We made it,” said Liam, nudging aside bags of snacks and sodas to make room for his feet. “You want me to drive?” 

“Nah, you sit back and relax,” said Niall cheerfully. “You two have good flights? Ed- these are me mates from school, Liam and Zayn. Lads- this is Ed!” 

“Hello!” Ed turned halfway around in his seat, reaching back to offer handshakes to them both. Liam recognized him from various pictures on Niall's facebook feed, though most of them had been grainy late night shots in pubs. He was much more colorful in full daylight, with gingery red hair and a rainbow of tattoos covering his forearms. 

“Good to met you, I've heard a lot,” Ed said cheerfully. 

“Sweet tattoos,” said Zayn, admiringly. “They look really great.” 

“Thanks,” said Ed. “You have some?” 

“A few,” Zayn said. He pushed up his sleeves to show the small ying-yang, the puzzle piece, the crossed fingers and the _Zap._ “Got a few more on my chest as well. I want more but they're a bit- discouraged- in the dance world- y'know. I'd love a sleeve though. That's sick.” He looked over Ed's with appreciation. 

“Cheers,” said Ed, grinning. 

Zayn started asking Ed about some of the specific designs. Liam was half listening, half worriedly observing Niall's driving. Niall hadn't driven the whole time he'd been on crutches and he really hadn't got off them that long ago. 

“Is this your car?” Liam asked as Niall swerved at high speed through a round about. 

“Nah, it's me brother's friend's uncle's,” said Niall, turning sharply onto the M1 ramp. “So try not to spill anything on the seats! Sick tour van through, right? No problem getting your loop pedal all the other stuff in the back, was there?” 

“Got them right in,” Ed agreed. 

“So are we heading straight through til Belfast or...?” asked Liam.

“Oh, we'll probably stop for food somewhere,” Niall said breezily. “Zayn, been meaning to ask- how are Harry and Louis doing, heard from them recently?”

“Yeah, they found a place in LA,” said Zayn. “Just finished moving in.”

“What?” said Liam. 

“They moved in together,” said Zayn. “In LA.” 

“They what?!” said Liam. He had known Harry was going to LA, for the summer ballet intensive. He had NOT known that Louis was going with him. That was huge. Apparently Harry had forgiven Louis for real. But _living_ together....? Was that a good idea? It seemed premature. 

“Didn't you know?” said Niall. “Harry sent me texts of the entire move in process, they were _hilarious.”_

“He didn't send me any,” Liam frowned. 

“How about those facebook pictures Harry posted looking off their landing?” said Ed. “Pretty sweet view!” 

“What, I didn't see those either!” Liam exclaimed. 

“How did you miss them, Ed's not even the Harry's friend and he saw them!” Niall laughed. 

“I am Harry's friend,” Ed retorted. 

“Since when are you Harry's friend,” Niall asked. 

“Since he sent me a friend request three weeks ago,” Ed replied. 

“Liam lives under a rock,” said Zayn affectionately, throwing an arm around Liam's neck and pulling Liam into his side. 

“I don't,” said Liam, his face half-muffled under Zayn's arm. He didn't try to pull away. 

“You do,” Zayn and Niall chorused. 

Zayn's jacket smelled very strongly of new leather, and wasn't at all soft, but Liam sort of burrowed his face into it anyway, and curled an arm around Zayn's waist. Zayn chuckled a little bit and Liam could hear it coming from his chest. 

“Oh turn this song up, I love this song!” Niall requested, waving a hand at his ipod and Ed picked up it up. A moment later “Superheroes” by the Script was blaring out of the van's old speakers. 

“I made us a special road trip playlist!” Niall called back over his shoulder. “Try and guess the theme.” 

“Lame indie rock?” Zayn suggested and Liam snorted. He closed his eyes and let his head slide further down Zayn's chest until it was most of the way to his lap, but Zayn didn't seem to mind and Liam had missed just- touching him. Just being in physical contact with him. He kind of wanted to take his seat belt off and curl up properly, just cuddle all the way to Belfast. He felt around until he got his hand under Zayn's shirt and could press his palm to Zayn's warm side. He felt Zayn shiver a little, then relax. 

_“Wrong,”_ said Niall. “And also, this song is awesome. Guess again!” 

“Uughh,” said Zayn. “Is the theme heroes?” 

“No, but we should totally make a heroes themed playlist,” said Niall. “It could have that hero song from the _Shrek_ soundtrack on it. And the other song from the _Drive_ soundtrack.” 

“ 'Heroes' by David Bowie,” suggested Ed. 

“ 'Turn Me On' by David Guetta,” said Zayn, a laugh in his voice. Liam smiled, his eyes still closed. He could feel Zayn's ribs under his hand, rising and falling with every breath. He sneaked his hand up until he found one of Zayn's nipples and ghosted a finger across it. Zayn made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat. 

“Good one,” said Niall. “But no. Keep listening, you'll get it in a minute.” 

“Elevation” by U2 played next, then “Zombie” by the Crandberries. Zayn let Liam play with his nipple for a while until Liam pinched it to be annoying and Zayn shoved him off. He sat up in his own seat and watched the Irish country side speed by, grey cloudy sky and green fields bordered by hedges and low stone walls. The gorse that grew along the side of the road was in full flower, and the fields were dotted with black and white magpies. “Devil's Dance Floor” came on, followed by Van Morrison's “Sweet Thing” and Hozier's “Take Me To Church”. Liam now inevitably thought of the night Louis had come back whenever he heard that song. The night he'd kissed Zayn for the first time. He looked across at Zayn, bantering away with Niall, throwing out increasingly stupid guesses while Ed laughed, and felt a well of pure happiness come up inside him. He was so glad to be here. He was so glad he and Zayn had been able to come. The promise of a week together was ahead of them, and he couldn't stop smiling. Zayn groaned as Stiff Little Fingers was followed by some song from The Chieftains. 

“Is it all songs with bagpipes in them?” Zayn asked. 

“Have all the songs we've heard had bagpipes in 'em? NO!” Niall exclaimed. 

“Is it all songs you thought would irritate me?” Zayn tried. Ed dialed the volume back a little. 

“It's all songs by Irish musicians!” Niall yelled. “For our _Ireland tour._ Come on man, it's so _obvious!”_

_“Obvious,”_ Zayn rolled his eyes at Liam. “As if I listen to this boring shit... Put on something good! Put on The Weeknd or Rea Sremmund!” Niall ignored him. 

They stopped for snacks and a bathroom break in Drogheda, and soon after crossed the River Boyne. The sky grew darker and darker grey until it broke suddenly into a furious downpour of hail that sounded like gravel being dumped by the bucketful onto the roof of the van. Niall turned up his brights and slowed to a crawl with his windshield wipers on max. Liam found himself leaning forward in his seat, one hand on the back of Ed's headrest to try and peer out through the blurry glass. The hail ended as abruptly as it had begun twenty minutes later. All of them took a deep breath, and Zayn took Liam's hand and squeezed it before letting it rest on the seat between them. They held hands for the rest of the drive. It had been scary there for a little while. 

Liam had noticed the street signs switch from bilingual, in English and Irish, to just English somewhere along the drive. Without any further fanfare they had crossed the border from Ireland into Northern Ireland. It was between four and five in the afternoon when they reached Belfast. They turned the music off so Niall could hear the GPS directions as they made their way through the city. 

“So this is what I was thinkin',” said Niall, while they waited at a stop light. “I was going to head right to the pub where we're playin' tonight, so we can unload all the gear and start getting set up. We can eat at the pub and check in to our hotel after the gig. That sound alright?” 

“Where are we staying?” asked Zayn. 

“Ahh- it's an email in my phone,” said Niall. “It's on Saint Anne's Square, though, that sounds posh right?” 

“Will we have to drive there?” Liam asked, frowning. “Does one of us need to stay sober?” 

“Nah, I planned better than that! The hotel and the pub are really close,” said Niall. He grinned over his shoulder. “So we can all drink, no worries!” 

“Ahh, I love being back in the UK, don't need Louis's fake license here,” Zayn said happily, and Ed laughed. 

The pub that Niall directed them to half an hour later was The Duke of York. It had a picturesque, touristy look to Liam's eye. The front was whitewashed with brick details; numerous flower-boxes lines the walls of the buildings all down the cobbled street. Several vintage Guinness signs with the familiar pelicans and pints were posted on the walls and there was a plaque a little ways down from the door.

_Snow Patrol_  
_first gigged here_  
_1998_  
_Presented to_  
_the Duke of York_  
_Belfast_

_PRS for Music Heritage Award_

“Did you see that?” Liam pointed it out to Niall as he came by with an arm-load of mic stands. The closest they'd been able to park the Previa was the end of the narrow street. Liam was already NOT looking forward to repacking all this gear at the end of the evening.

“I know,” said Niall, his eyes shining. “I know.”

A cheerful crowd of drinkers had already started to spill out of the bar, sitting in groups on the red slat benches on the sidewalks. The inside of the building was larger than expected with several connected rooms all decorated past the point of no return. Every bit of wall was filled with signs from distilleries and breweries, tacked-up beer coasters, old advertisements for whiskey and framed posters and slogans. When Liam craned his head back, he saw that most of the ceiling was also covered with enameled tin plates and trays painted with adverts. _Harp Lager, Model Orange Model Cola, Guinness is good for you, Celebrated Stouts and Ales._ Light from many unmatched lamps glittered off dozens of mirrors and glinted off brass and pewter, warmed the old-fashioned wallpaper and the worn tile floors. Niall found someone who directed them to the tiny stage area and showed them the power outlets at the end of a long narrow room full of round tables and stools. With some careful maneuvering they were able to get two amps, three mic stands and the loop pedal all wedged in together on the little platform. It was still far too early to start playing, but not too early for dinner. Niall tracked down his bartender contact again to ask about where to get food. 

“Well, there's McHughs and Tedfords within walking distance,” the barkeeper supplied, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “Salt Bistro is good, or Made in Belfast if you want something a little fancier...” She paused and seemed to take in their somewhat disheveled state. Niall and Ed both with holes at the knees of their jeans, Liam having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and all of them sweating from the gear set up. Only Zayn still looked presentable, in Liam's biased opinion. “There's also sandwiches right across the street at The Dark Horse, our coffee bar.” 

“Bless you,” said Niall. “Sandwiches it is lads!” He declared, already turning for the door. 

“Wait!” called the bartender. “What're you called?” 

“What?” asked Liam. 

“What should I put on the board?” she clarified, pointing to a small blackboard hung up in a corner. _Live music tonight with,_ was written on it in chalk. Niall and Ed looked at each other. 

“Last names?” asked Ed. “First names?” 

“Last names and first names?” suggested Niall. 

“S'too long,” said Liam. “Just go with Ed and Niall.” 

“Oi!” said Niall. “I like Niall and Ed.” 

“That's got a better ring,” Ed agreed. 

“The other one's alphabetical though,” Zayn put in. “Do you really not have a name for your band?” 

“We have discussed names for our band,” Niall stated with dignity. “And have not yet settled on one.” 

“Because I think his ideas are too long and complicated and he thinks mine are boring,” said Ed. 

“Just something for tonight?” The bartender cut in. 

“Combine 'em,” said Zayn, laughing. “Ned!”

“No, just put Niall Horan and Ed Sheeran,” said Ed, giving her the spelling before this go could on longer. “Thanks.” 

A few minutes later they were seated at a table by the much quieter bar in The Dark Horse, eating simple toasted sandwiches - cheese and ham, and cheese and eggs with coleslaw. They held off from drinking (“We'll probably start getting free drinks as soon as we've played a few songs,” said Niall) but polished off their food quickly. Zayn ordered a coffee and sipped it as they all sat back. 

“Ah, what am I doing, we haven't snapchatted anything yet!” Ed exclaimed, pulling out his phone. He held it up to take a shaky panorama of the table. “Hey, we just had dinner, gonna play our first show of the this trip right across the street! How excited are we, Niall?” 

“So excited!” said Niall. 

“You guys are excited too right?” Ed pointed his phone towards Zayn's face, then Liam's. Zayn raised his eyebrows over his coffee. Liam smiled and resisted the urge to put his hand over the camera. 

Ed spun the camera around to his face and stuck his tongue out. “Liam's not very excited yet but he WILL BE.” 

“Are you gonna document our whole trip like this?” Niall laughed. 

“Definitely,” said Ed. “Promised Nina. Plus we have fans.” 

“Like, ten whole fans,” said Niall. “Gotta keep 'em in the loop!” 

Liam was pretty sure they had more fans than that. Some of their songs on Youtube had quite a lot of views. “So what names have you talked about for your band?” he asked. 

“Ed keeps trying to name us some random word like green or orange,” said Niall. 

“Those aren't random, those are both colors,” said Zayn. 

“Orange would be a sick band name,” said Ed. “Plus then our first album cover could just be a picture of an orange.” 

“Yeah, if we were both ginger, that would even make sense,” Niall elbowed him. “I keep saying, if you're thinking orange or green we might as well do the whole flag and be called Irish Tricolor.”

“Yeah, and that would make sense if we were both Irish!” Ed sounded very much as if this was a conversation they'd had before. 

“What about something you guys both really love?” Liam put it. 

“Sandwiches,” said Niall, patting his stomach. “We could be called Cheese and Ham.”

“Loose Change,” said Ed, poking through the pile of coins they'd scrapped up for a tip. 

“That'd be a better album title I think,” said Zayn. 

At half seven they trooped back across the street to The Duke. It had turned into a lovely evening- warm and clear. It wasn't really dark yet, but someone had turned on strings of small white lights overhead that crossed back and forth from the eves of the buildings all the way down the street. The bar was full of laughter and the talk was getting louder and a little wilder, everyone gearing up for long Friday night. Niall decided he didn't want to wait after all for the free booze- he bought a round of pints and clinked glasses with the others. 

“Here's to the tour!” he said. 

“Cheers to that,” said Zayn. 

“To friends,” said Liam. 

“To music,” said Ed. 

Liam and Zayn lingered against the bar as Ed and Niall waded through the crowd towards the little stage. Niall jumped up onto the platform and raised his glass to the room at large. There was a ripple as some people interrupted their conversations to turn around and look towards the end of the room. Their curious faces were reflected back by the huge Lyle and Kinahan's mirror behind him, its gilt lettering gleaming in the light. Niall grabbed one of the mics as Ed stepped up beside him, carefully keeping his guitar free of obstacles and his feet free of the cords. 

“How's everybody feeling tonight?” Niall asked into the mic. The audience waved, whistled or ignored him. “Everybody in the back? Everybody at the bar? What's the craic?” That got a laugh and a burst of clapping and stamping. “My name's Niall Horan and this is me mate Ed Sheeran, and we'll be playing for you all tonight, so here we go!” 

Niall took a swig of his pint, set it aside and swung his guitar over his shoulder. He and Ed made eye contact, nodding one, two, three to each other before going straight into the first song.

_“Nobody on the road_  
_Nobody on the beach_  
_I feel it in the air-_  
_The summer's out of reach...”_

Liam leaned back against the wall by the bar to listen, drink in hand and Zayn at his side. He knew the majority of Niall and Ed's set list was songs they'd each written or songs they'd written together but they'd decided to start the evening with a cover. Looking over the crowd, Liam thought that had been a good decision. People around the room were being pulled in by Don Henley's familiar words. A few people who wanted to talk had moved into the other room to be farther from the music, but twice as many had come trickling back in from outside to take their place.

“Thanks everyone, thank you,” Ed grinned as the end of the song was greeted by enthusiastic clapping. “This next one I wrote, called “Cold Coffee”, and it's for my girlfriend back home, Nina.” 

Niall hung back on the vocals on this song, only coming in here and there on the chorus while Ed sang the verses.

_“She's like cold coffee in the morning_  
_I'm drunk off last night's whiskey and coke_  
_She'll make me shiver without warning_  
_And laugh as if I'm in on the joke...”_

They went straight into the next song with no intro, and it was one Liam recognized from an acoustic recording he'd seen online, Ed singing that he wanted to be drunk when he woke up, Niall singing “Maybe I'll get drunk again.” Drinking was definitely a theme often featured in this as-yet-unnamed band's catalog. As if to solidify this motif their next song was a cover of Beyonce's “Drunk in Love” which caused Zayn to pull out his phone to start recording and caused Liam to nearly spill his drink from laughing.

The next song had a different feel. Niall stood back a little while Ed began building up layers of sound, playing riffs and rhythms into his second mic, looping them back with his pedals. Liam had never heard anything like it, and would readily admit he didn't understand how it worked. Zayn had asked a few questions in the car which had started Ed on a happy stream of praise for his rig- the Boss RC-20XL. He'd given them a lot of facts- up to 16 minutes of recording, up to 11 loops at a time, how lucky he'd been to find one used as it was a discontinued model- but none of that had prepared Liam for the magic trick of hearing Ed build a song one layer at a time. He'd start by finger picking a simple few notes, step back, layer a chord then layer a rhythm of his hands tapping or drumming the body of his guitar. His voice was an instrument as much as his hands- a wavery lilt, a deep hmm, or a whisper of melody fitted like a puzzle piece into the growing music. And that was only the beginning. All of that happened before he'd even begun the lyrics. 

“This city never sleeps,” Ed sang. “I hear the people walk by when it's late. Sirens bleed through my windowsill...” 

Liam closed his eyes and let the complexity of the sounds wash over him. The hum of talk and laughter from outside, clinking of glasses, someone shouting across to order from the bar, the scrape of chairs, and over all of this the music- layers and layers of interweaving voice and guitar.

  
_“The lights that blind me keep me awake_  
_With my hood up and lace untied_  
_Sleep fills my mind_  
_Don't control what I'm into.”_

Ed was singing about London, but it was San Francisco at night that Liam found himself thinking of. One time when he, Harry and Zayn had wandered around in the Sunset for over an hour trying to find a cheap Vietnamese restaurant recommended by a friend- the ridiculousness of walking _Just one more block, I swear it's around here somewhere-_ all of them half frustrated, but unable to keep from laughing under the organey streetlights- _Harry, we're just not going to find it, let's go back to that burger place, mate, I'm hungry- No, but, one more block..._ none of them could remember the name of the place, and it had been 10 pm before they eventually sat down to dinner. At a Chinese place somewhere off 19th Ave. _If I'd wanted Chinese,_ Zayn had grumbled, _We could have gone to Lucky Cat and saved ourselves three hours..._ Probably his feet had been hurting; Liam's had been. They'd covered a lot of pavement after dancing all day. _But these fish tanks!_ Harry had pointed out. _Lucky Cat doesn't have fish tanks..._

“London calls me a stranger,” Ed sang. “A traveler. This is now my home, my home.” 

The whole song was like that night. Yearning, searching, precious, unsatisfying, over too soon. It had the closeness of good friends and the unease of a huge city at night- bright and dark, familiar and foreign.

_“I'm blazing in the street_  
_What I do isn't up to you_  
_And if the city never sleeps_  
_Then that makes two.”_

“Hey,” Zayn's voice against his ear drew Liam back to the present. “Let's look around a bit, yeah?” Liam finished the last sip of his beer and set his glass down, letting Zayn lead him off. He felt just a little twinge at leaving the music behind but Niall and Ed had free drinks crowding the small table nearest the stage. They had their audience firmly in hand; Liam no longer felt obliged to pitch in to the applause that filled every pause in the music.

Zayn took his hand as they made their way through tipsy Belfasters. The adjoining room was just as crowded and Liam let Zayn pull him along, fingers interlaced, towards the second floor. There was a staircase inscribed with a poem by William Butler Yeats, at the top of which they found a long low-ceilinged room with a dim, night-clubbish feel. It was even more crowded then below, full of standing couples or groups of friends, less tourists and more locals trying to pull. They ended up in a corner, near a window overlooking the street below. Up here they were on a level with the strings of white lights strung from gable to gable above the cobblestones. Liam could see they were like the big old fashioned Christmas lights he'd seen at his grandparents house- round glass bulbs as big as his thumb. Zayn leaned in close, though he didn't touch Liam anywhere, and looked down at the street as well. 

“D'ya wanna go outside?” he asked. He had to raise his voice to be heard. 

“The loo first?” Liam suggested. 

They turned and headed back down the narrow tiles stairs _(“Grow gay with His mood/ The old planets seven/ To see you so good:/God smiles in high heaven”)._ Liam caught a glimpse of their reflections in one of the many mirrors- Zayn's white hair was only slightly less startling than it had been that morning. But in contrast his eyebrows and eyelashes looked as dark as ink, and the leather jacket emphasized his shoulders. He was devastating. Liam was already buzzing a bit, partly from alcohol, but mostly from knowing he'd be in bed with Zayn within a few hours. He had a hallow feeling in his palms from wanting to touch Zayn, to strip off his clothes and run his hands over warm skin. The night tingled with possibly. Zayn hadn't specified where he wanted to go when he'd pulled Liam away, and Liam hadn't said it either, but they were definitely both looking for the best place to make out. 

The bathrooms were not the best place. They were very small and even the men's line turned the corner. They ended up heading back past the main bar for the door to the street. Liam caught a snatch of Niall singing as the threaded their way through the back of the audience. 

“Tonight let's get some and live while we're young,” Niall sang. “Whoa oh oh oh oh...” 

It was gorgeous outside. The air was a bit hazy in places around groups of smokers, but underneath it smelled clean from the downpour that afternoon. When Liam tipped his head back to look past the strings of lights, he could see the stars. Zayn drew him away from the pool of light by the door to a free stretch of wall between two planters. They had hands on each other's waists now, Liam sliding his fingers up under Zayn's shirt, Zayn nudging him backward until he felt the bricks against his back. 

“Hey,” said Zayn, smiling, eyes full of tiny glints of light. 

“Hey,” said Liam, and leaned forward to kiss him. It wasn't urgent but it was heated and thorough; Zayn leaned his full weight on Liam and searched until he found the best angle; licked into his mouth like he had all night to do it. Liam's hands found the angle of Zayn's hips and rested there and he let himself fall into the kiss until he ran out of breath. Zayn had sneaked a hand around Liam's back; Liam felt a jolt of heat as he felt fingers petting at the skin at the base of his spine. His hips twitched forward and Zayn pressed him back, with slow firmness, to the wall. And christ did it feel _good,_ to have Zayn on him all over, to be giddy and breathless from kissing, to bite at Zayn's earlobes and his jaw, to run his hands over Zayn's ribs and feel him almost laugh, to get pinched in retaliation. 

“Missed you,” Zayn murmured at one point and Liam knew he meant this- being pressed as close as possible and sparking in every nerve- fully aware of their bodies, like in dance. Being awake and aware of every limb. Being alive. Liam wanted to hold to onto this as long as possible, didn't want to stop but he knew they should wait- Zayn's hand was already half tucked down the back of his jeans, and he was starting to feel flushed and Zayn was panting against his neck but they had time for this later. They had the whole long road through Ireland ahead of them. He was not going to suggest that Zayn go down on him in a dark alley, he was _not._ He was also _not_ going to start palming Zayn in full view of a street full of people, as tempting as both the options were. 

“Should we- maybe- get back inside-” Liam asked, because if Zayn's fingers got any closer to his ass they would have to just keep going. 

“Uh- yeh-” Zayn sighed heavily against his ear, and straightened up a little, shifted his hands Liam's chest instead, then upward, to run a thumb across his cheek. 

“Later,” promised Liam. Zayn kissed him again, but more quietly this time, then just rested his head down on Liam's shoulder. Liam wrapped his arms around Zayn and hugged him close. Zayn's short hair was soft again his ear and this was good to- just having Zayn in his arms, tender, uncomplicated. Liam felt another warm swell of pure contentment. He was so so glad to be here- he was grateful for everything tonight. 

Niall was singing again when they made it back inside. The pub felt loud and bright and very crowded, but Zayn tucked himself against Liam's side and they found a place to stand against the back wall that was mostly out of the way.

“Don't forget where you belong, home,” sang Niall. 

_“Don't forget where you belong, home._  
_If you ever feel alone, don't._  
_You were never on your own,_  
_and the proof is in this song.”_  


Niall and Ed grinned and waved at the applause that followed. Niall pulled his guitar strap over his head and set the instrument down.

“Hey everyone we're goin' ta take a wee break but don't go anywhere,” Niall said into the mic. “Be back in just a bit for a second set!”

“And thanks for all these drinks, seriously, you're the best, we love you!” Ed added, raising a glass in a toast to the room. 

They both stepped off the little stage and started making their way to the back, Niall heading towards Liam and Zayn and Ed for the men's room. Liam saw a few people let him skip ahead in line, which was a pretty massive compliment, actually. 

“Wha'da'ya think? Pretty good yeah?” Niall answered his own question. “I love this pub! And this is a great crowd. Do ya want some of the drinks we've got up there?” 

Ed joined them a few minutes later, pulling out his phone to take snapchats of the crowd, the glittering mirrors, and the over-decorated ceiling. Zayn asked him about the song about London and Ed told them about moving to the city without any contacts, months of couch surfing and playing in tube stations. He and Niall were back on stage within 20 minutes, and Liam and Zayn were able to get one of the tiny round tables in the general re-shuffling of the crowd. They sat back with a pint of free Guiness a piece for the rest of the music, their legs tangled together and hands resting on each other's thighs below the table. Ed and Niall opened the second set with “This Isn't Everything You Are” as a tribute to the pub's Snow Patrol legacy. The second to last was one of Ed's original songs, “Give Me Love”, that transitioned straight into a traditional Irish ballad that spread ripples of quiet through the rowdy crowd. Ed's voice rang out like a clear bittersweet bell.

  
_“Of all the money that e'er I had_  
_I've spent it in good company_  
_And all the harm that e'er I've done_  
_Alas it was to none but me_  
_And all I've done for want of wit_  
_To memory now I can't recall_  
_So fill to me the parting glass_  
_Goodnight and joy be with you all.”_

The end of the song left a pool of almost quiet in the busy pub; the applause that followed this went on and on. A lot of people went up to them afterward, wanting to know if they had a website or a CD, if there was a facebook page or an email list- Ed gave out his snapchat username with reckless abandon. Niall handed out some business cards and a battered notebook for people to scribble down their emails- when he got it back a few people had tucked tips into it as well as contacts. Liam didn't want to rush the crowd of new fans, but he was also a little anxious to get out- they still had to carry all the gear to back to the van and find the hotel. He hoped Niall was right about it being a short walk- he still didn't even know the address. He was a little worried about the place not accepting checks-ins past midnight or one in the morning. Plus Zayn had given him a heated sideways look as the music ended. Liam wanted to find that hotel. He was motivated. 

Luckily, the pack-up seemed to take less time that the set-up had, and two or three people from the crowd were willing to help them lug the mic stands to they car so they could get everything all in one trip. There was a girl with sandy blond hair who seemed quite keen on talking with Niall as long as she could, and some kind of acoustic guitar aficionado who wanted to know everything Ed could tell him about the Boss RC line- was he planning to upgrade to the RC-30 if he got the chance...? Three hours of recording, USB connections, built in effects, twin pedal multi-track...? He lingered even longer than the blond had. Liam slammed the van doors closed as loudly as he could, cutting into Ed's enthusiastic conversation. 

“Yeah, gotta go then, goodnight,” Ed waved and the guy reluctantly headed back towards the bar. Ed and Niall were both still amped up and bouncy from the show, silly and giddy as Niall led the way to the hotel, following his phone directions. They were talking too loudly, like maybe they still had the music filling up their ears. Liam didn't know where they got their energy from. He wanted a bed. Not sleep, necessarily, but definitely a bed. 

The hotel turned out to be a Ramada Encore, and the lobby was still open and brightly lit when they all came staggering in, weighted down with bags and backpacks. Niall went up to the long curved wooden counter to get them checked in. 

Ed was pointing his phone around at the lobby's gleamingly clean white tile to the equally pristine red carpets and potted palms. 

“Man, I never stay in hotels,” he said, shaking his head. “Too expensive!” He made a wide-eyed face, mugging for his own video. 

“Hmm,” said Zayn, quietly. “Very convenient though.” He'd taken the opportunity of the wait to lean on Liam and close his eyes. Liam put an arm around his waist from the side to keep him up. He thought maybe Zayn was going to fall asleep on him, but then Zayn slipped his hand up the back Liam's shirt again, and surprised him by running his fingers up Liam's spine. Liam shivered and stood up straighter, his own fingers digging into Zayn's side. When he glanced down at Zayn's face he could see the curve of a wicked smile on his lips, though his eyes were closed. 

“What are you smiling about?” Liam asked softly. 

Zayn turned his head so that he could whisper towards Liam's ear. “Just been imagining,” he murmured, “Everything I'll do soon as I unbutton your jeans and get at your dick.” He bite at the side of Liam's neck and Liam gasped. “Been imagining for ages...” He kissed under Liam's ear and Liam could feel his pulse starting to pound, low in his belly. He wanted Zayn so fucking badly. He wanted Zayn naked, and all to himself. Wanted to know everything he'd imagined, and to do it, and more. 

They had to peel apart when Niall came back, to help lug everything into the elevator, though Zayn was right back on him as soon as they had moved all the stuff. Liam felt warmed through everywhere Zayn was touching him- legs pressed together from knee to hip, one of his arms wrapped around Zayn and under his jacket, both of Zayn's arms around his waist and tucked into his back pockets. Squeezing his ass a bit and pulling him in, Zayn trying to lodge Liam's hips as firmly into his own as he could. He was already half-hard, and Liam could feel every inch of it. He wanted to kiss Zayn but not in front of Ed and Niall. _Five minutes,_ he told himself. _Wait five goddamn minutes and you'll have a room._ Zayn was eyeing Liam's mouth like he was thinking exactly the same thing. He flicked his eyes upward and smiled, sharp and bright. God, his smile. It just melted Liam, every time. 

“I think they liked the show what do you think, Niall,” Ed snickered, pulling out his phone and pointing it at them. “Perfect date night, yeah?”

“What are you...” Liam started, pulling his attention away from Zayn with difficulty. 

“Say hiiiii....” said Ed. 

“Don't snapchat us, man,” Zayn rolled his eyes. 

“D'know, think our new fans might enjoy this,” said Ed, leaning back as Zayn swatted at him, while Niall laughed. “Don't mind us, you can snog him!” 

“Nothing we haven't seen before,” grinned Niall.

“Oh, fuck off,” said Zayn, but light-heartedly. 

The elevator dinged, opening into an impeccably white hall. They all shuffled around, picking up their bags. 

“Let's see... here we go,” said Niall. He glanced at the numbers visible on all the doors then confidently lead them to a door on the left. He slid a key card and the door beeped. He pushed it open and gestured grandly to them all. “This is us!” Liam waited, but he didn't reach to pull out any other key cards. He just raised his eyebrows at Liam and Zayn, who hadn't followed his invitation. 

“Where's ours?” Liam asked, after a beat. 

“Hmm?” said Niall. 

“Zayn's and my room,” Liam clarified. 

“Oh, we're all in here,” said Niall, smiling brightly, tipping his head toward the open door. Liam's stomach began to sink, but he held out hope for a suite of two separate rooms... _please... maybe..._ but no. It was all one room, with tawny wooden floors, white and maroon curtains, a wide screen TV and two beds. Queens. White duvets, smaller maroon blankets laid across the feet. Liam  
glanced at Zayn and Zayn gave him a look, heated and frustrated and wryly amused, and moved farther into the room to let Ed come in behind. 

“Niall, I'm glad your parents helped pay for all this, this looks pricy,” Ed pointed his phone around the room. 

Liam let his bag fall heavily to the floor at the foot of one of the beds. He was turned on and pissed off, goddammit. All he wanted was Zayn, and some fucking privacy. For fucking. He made himself take a deep breath. Zayn was looking around the room, checking out the closets and the bathroom. Niall had flicked on the TV to see what channels it came with and Ed had turned his bag over on the floor, scattering everything looking for his phone charger. 

_It's alright, it's just this one night,_ Liam told himself. _We've got a whole trip..._ but a horrible thought struck Liam. Niall had booked all of their hotels. 

“Niall,” Liam asked carefully. He had to repeat himself over the news anchor now on the screen. “Niall, did you get us all shared rooms for- this entire trip.” 

“Yep,” said Niall happily. “So it could be like a slumber party every night! Sweet, right?You and Zayn can pick whatever bed you want, Ed and I don't mind sharing, right, Ed?” 

“I've got earplugs,” Ed agreed. “So yeah, no problem.” 

“Hey!” said Niall. “I don't snore, you need to shut up about that, s'not true.” He grabbed up a pillow to hurl at Ed, and Ed started laughing and dodged out of the way. The pillow ended up hitting the TV. 

Liam looked wearily at Zayn. Zayn rolled his eyes as Niall and Ed began to destroying the second bed to gather ammo for their growing pillow fight. 

“Bouncing on the bed next,” muttered Zayn. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over a chair before picking up his bag and heading for the bathroom. Liam leaned down to dig through his bag on the floor, pulling out his toothbrush. He was suddenly exhausted. All his energy had completely drained away.

He arrived at the bathroom in time to watch Zayn change from his jeans to pajama bottoms. Zayn pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it into the bag, leaning shirtless over the sink to brush his teeth. Liam let his eyes trail over Zayn's shoulder blades and his sides. The Arabic calligraphy on his collar bone and chest reflected in the mirror. 

They brushed teeth, side by side, elbows brushing, ignoring the sounds of the TV and laughter from the room. If Liam watched Zayn's toothbrush working in his mouth, it was no more than Zayn watched his. 

Zayn leaned over and spit into the sink, rinsing his mouth out and setting his toothbrush down. He leaned against the counter and watched Liam pull out floss. He reached out one hand to tug at one of Liam's belt loops. “Don't suppose you'll still want to...,” he trailed off. 

“Uhnff,” grumbled Liam. Zayn's chest was really distracting. 

“I can be very quiet,” said Zayn, half teasing. 

“I- just- no,” said Liam. He was getting embarrassed just thinking about having sex with other people in the room. He just- he couldn't. 

There was a crash from the bedroom, and a loud “SHIT!” from Ed. 

When Liam looked out to see what had happened Ed was sprawled out on the floor, having clearly just tripped over Liam's backpack. The contents were spilled out everywhere. Liam had a frantic second of expecting to see his stash of lube and condoms now tangled on the floor for all to see, but then remembered that they were still safe in his other bag. His headphones, however, were not. They were right under where Ed was lifting up his right knee, and they were definitely manged beyond repair. 

“Er, sorry,” said Ed, looking up at Liam. 

“Fucking hell,” muttered Liam. 

It was at least 45 more minutes before they had all settled in enough to actually be under the covers and get the lights turned off. Niall and Ed had to have a whole conversation about who got which side of the bed and how bros totally could share a bed and not be gay (“Nothing against you though, mates”). Which segued into them discussing the minutia of a new song they were working on, plus the possibility of some recording time between stops in Kildare and Kilnarey, until Liam told them both to shut it. Their conversation did not stop but dwindled to whispers. 

Zayn and Liam were half curled together. Just when Liam thought that Zayn might be asleep, his hand ghosted across Liam's hip. 

“Could just give you a handjob,” he said, barely more than a breath. 

“Ahhhgg,” said Liam, articulately. He was glad it was dark, because he was blushing. Because it was like- sort of tempting- but Ed and Niall were right there- and it was just- no. Just no. 

“Can't,” he whispered back. “Sorry.” 

“S'not your fault,” Zayn murmured back. And he kissed Liam very quietly at the corner of his mouth, then turned over and tucked his pillow more firmly under his head, and curled his spine against Liam's chest. Liam smiled, and eventually he slept.


	2. LA

Louis was not in a very good mood when he stumbled through the door of apartment 12C with two bags of groceries. Living in LA with no car sucked just as much as everyone had said it would. He was tired and sweaty from carry all this shit, and because it was probably 90 degrees out, but he didn't own any shorts and so had worn jeans to work. He would really have liked to just lie down on the sofa with a beer. He was still getting used to the concept of having a sofa, and an apartment, all to himself for a few hours. Living in the Mission he had grown unused to both quiet and privacy. 

But Louis had resolved that this evening he was Making Dinner for Harry. Harry was two weeks into his ballet summer intensive and every night he came home exhausted. He was dancing even longer hours that he'd usually done at school and Louis knew his back had started hurting him again. 

“Which is pretty ironic,” Harry had said, stretching on the living room floor during their first weekend. “Since I had ballet recommended as a way to _fix_ back problems.”

“Probably before you were old enough to do lifts and partner work,” Louis had said, enjoying the excellent view from his place on the couch.

“Well yes, I was only nine,” Harry had admitted.

Louis dumped the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and glanced at the time. It was past six and Harry would be home sometime around eight. Naturally, before the end of his very first day Harry had made friends with someone who'd been willing to pick him up and drop him off on their way in to the ballet studios. Harry made friends everywhere. (Louis was still working on not getting jealous about this. He had to take the bus to work.) 

Louis headed into the bedroom and peeled off his disgusting clothes. Everything he owned, the little that it was, had been well suited to San Francisco. Apparently he needed a whole new goddamn wardrobe for LA. Louis showered quickly, putting the day firmly out of his mind. He pulled on a pair of Harry's basketball shorts and loose tank top which let the air touch his skin. Harry usually commented favorable on this shirt, as it allowed him to see Louis's nipples through the arm holes. He checked his phone when he was dressed and smiled to see a text from Niall. “Whats ur address, want to send postcards!” He sent back the LA address and added “Hows the tour?” Niall's response was emojis of three pints, music notes and a thumbs up.

It was 6:45 when he got back into the kitchen, which didn't really leave him much time. Louis knew that he was neither talented nor efficient when it came to cooking- it could easily take him two hours to produce something edible. Also, since they couldn't have burritos everyday, he had decided to try lasagna. It couldn't be that hard, he figured- it was basically just pasta with sauce on top and something else in between the layers. It was that something else bit that had sent him to Google. What went in lasagna, anyway? Louis had still not upgraded his phone from the shitty cheap Nokia he had bought in January. Since he couldn't just look up the recipe while in Safeway he had found a recipe online this morning before work and written all the ingredients down on a slip of paper. Of course, he had not bothered to write down or save the actual link to the recipe, and he wasted at least 15 minutes trying to find it again on the internet. Internet. That was another thing he was still getting used to. 

Eventually he found a different recipe that looked pretty much the same, though the list of steps was longer. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease a baking pan, okay. Louis poked around the cupboards and found something that would probably work. Start a pot of water to boil for the pasta noodles. Easy. Louis leaned over to read the next directions on the laptop screen. 

_To make the sauce: in a heavy skillet or Dutch oven add olive oil and saute the onions, garlic, celery, carrots..._ The fuck? He was supposed to make the sauce? The other recipe had definitely just said to buy marinara sauce, so that's what he'd done. Also, they didn't have a Dutch oven, whatever that was. He'd just skip that part and use the stuff he'd bought. 

The next bit was to brown the sausages in a pan, just as he would have if making them for breakfast, but with more spices. Louis threw in a generic Italian seasoning he'd picked up. After that he was supposed to mix all the ingredients for the cheese filling. Louis frowned at the directions. Ricotta cheese- yes, he gotten that. He had two eggs, just enough mozzarella cheese, Parmesan cheese and some parsley. He'd skipped spinach- he didn't really like it. Ohh... _milk._ He hadn't gotten any more milk. He pulled the half gallon they had out of the fridge and shook it. Yeah. There was only about a cup left. That meant he could either have it tomorrow with cereal or he could use it now for dinner, but not both. Louis let himself think wistfully of a bowl of cocoa puffs before work in the morning... but no. Dinner for Harry was more important. He poured the last of the milk resignedly into the cheese mixture. As he turned around to throw the milk carton into the sink his elbow hit the bowl. Louis turned back just in time to see it slip off the counter. The bowl hit the floor with a loud metal clang and the lasagna filling spilled across the linoleum. Sodden cheese, raw eggs and milk went EVERYWHERE.

_“Fuck!”_ said Louis, stepping back quickly to get out of the slimy mess. There went the milk. The ricotta was out to. And that had been pretty much all of the cheese. _Dammit._ He thought about trying to rinse some of it off in the sink, but that just sounded disgusting. He cleaned up the mess as best he could, using an entire roll of paper towels, because they only had one dish cloth and didn't own a mop. When he finally turned his attention back to the sausages, they had started to burn. 

_I hate cooking,_ thought Louis resentfully. He wished he made enough money that he could look after Harry by just buying him takeout every night instead. 

He turned the sausages off with bad grace. He was tempted to just eat them and slag the rest, but he pushed them to the back of the stove and covered them up instead. The water was well past boiling by now so he threw in the noodles, thinking he'd be hard pressed to mess that up. 

Louis heard someone trudging up the stairs outside, and a minute later he heard keys jangling against the lock. Harry pushed open the door, looking bedragged and dehydrated and dead on his feet. He was wearing grungy workout clothes and had his overlong hair held back with a silly orange headband. Louis felt a smile spreading across his face at the sight of him. 

“Hey,” said Louis. He had almost let a pet name slip out, but he still felt a bit self conscious using them, as if he hadn't done enough yet to earn back the right. He wanted to run his hands up Harry's sides and pull the headband out of his hair and kiss him. But Harry looked exhausted so Louis stayed where he was, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

“Hey,” said Harry, pushing the door closed and dropping everything he was carrying to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen, moving stiffly. 

“Smells good,” Harry mumbled. “What're we having?”

“Ahhh,” said Louis, surveying what left of his lasagna. “We are having... pasta and sausages with marinara sauce.” 

“That sounds good,” said Harry. 

“Probably be done in ten?” Louis estimated. 

“Great,” said Harry, trying to stifle a yawn. “I'm going to just go... lay on the couch...for a minute...” He wandered off. 

Louis tested the pasta and poured it into a stainer a few minutes later. It would be a bit weird to eat the three inch wide lasagna noodles not _in_ lasagna, but whatever. He microwaved the red sauce and made up two plates each with half the sausages, pasta, sauce and the end of the Parmesan on top. It actually didn't look half bad. He also poured himself a glass of wine, because he was now a housewife, apparently. 

He carried their dinners into the living room. Harry was asleep on the sofa. Damn. 

Louis deliberated for a minute, then set everything down on the coffee table. Harry was stretched out on his back, his head on one arm rest and his feet on the other. Louis sat on the end near Harry's feet and balanced his plate on his knees. He ate his pasta and his slightly burnt sausages and watched the slow rise and fall of Harry's chest. The sight was just beginning to hypnotize Louis when he started to smell something kind of like overdone toast from the kitchen. _Crap, THE OVEN._

Louis stood up quickly and carried his empty plate to the sink and turned the oven off, which had now been pre-heating for over an hour. He opened it to look inside but the smell seemed to have come from some singed crumbs on the bottom. There wasn't any smoke, so probably nothing had actually been on fire. That was a pretty low bar to hit, but Louis was glad he hadn't sunk any lower during tonight's cooking experiment. 

When he went back into the living room Harry was waking up. He rubbed at his eyes, and smiled sleepily at Louis. He sat up and drew in his legs so Louis could sit down. 

“Mmm,” Harry said, spotting the plate of food beside him. He pulled it into his lap and took a bite, blissfully. He let his eyes close. 

“This is sooo goooood...” said Harry. Louis suspected Harry was just extremely hungry. 

“Where's yours?” Harry asked, opening his eyes. 

“Already ate,” said Louis. 

Harry nodded and tucked in. 

“D'you want some wine?” Louis asked him. 

“Probably shouldn't- I'll just fall asleep again,” said Harry. “You are getting way better at cooking though- did you buy new seasonings?” 

“Uh... yeah,” said Louis. He had, in fact, bought some new seasonings. 

“It's really good,” Harry repeated. He cleaned his plate thoroughly and set it aside. “How long did you let me sleep?”

“Not long. Twenty minutes.” 

For some reason this answer seemed to amuse Harry, or something was amusing him, because he was now grinning at Louis. 

“What's funny?” Louis asked. 

“I like that shirt,” said Harry, sounding a bit sly. 

“Do you?” said Louis, grinning back at him. “D'you like what you see, Styles?” 

“A lot,” said Harry. He stretched out one of his feet so he could poke it into Louis's shirt, trying to grab Louis's nipple with his toes- which would just never work for a whole variety of reasons, only one of which was that he had socks on. Louis intercepted Harry's foot before it could smack him in the face. 

“Christ, your calf muscle is in knots,” said Louis. 

“My whole body is in knots,” groaned Harry, trying to pull his foot away. Louis didn't let go. 

“D'you want to me to do something about that?” asked Louis. He slide one hand up to the worst of the calf tightness and began to rub at it with his open palm. 

“A massage?” said Harry, his eyes widening hopefully. 

“It can be a whole massage if you want,” said Louis. 

“Yes,” said Harry. “Please yes.” 

Harry leaned back and let Louis have possession of his legs. Louis turned on the couch to face him better, and he worked at the arches of Harry's feet with his fingers and rubbed both of his thumbs over the tightness in his calves. 

When these had relaxed he moved to Harry's upper legs, and kneaded the muscles across the top of his thighs. He scooted forward to pull one of Harry's legs up over his shoulder and then leaned back with one hand wrapped around Harry's knee, stretching out all of the long fibers he had just massaged. He would normally have done the same with the other leg but it was trapped between his own thigh and the back of the couch. 

Louis was now sitting in the angle of Harry's parted legs and he looked Harry over, deliberately slow. Harry's eyes were half lidded and his breathing had gotten rather fast and shallow. He had his arms crossed at the wrist over his chest and he was gazing back at Louis heatedly, expectantly. 

There were a lot of different ways that Louis could go from here. He could easily have taken hold of Harry's balls through his yoga pants, or just pulled his pants down and gone straight for his dick. He could climb up onto Harry's chest, and trap his hands between them, and push him back into the sofa. He could tilt Harry's head back to kiss him, invading Harry's mouth with his tongue and exploring the shape of it. He could press into Harry until Harry began to gasp and arch up beneath him. He knew that Harry was half hard already and that Louis could get him there just by holding him down. He wouldn't even have to sneak a hand between them, because he could make Harry come just from thrusting up against Louis's hips while Louis licked and bite at his mouth... 

But Louis did none of these things. He just sat, running his nails lazily up and down Harry's thigh and savoring the way Harry lay patiently and waited. There was still some tension and stiffness in the set of Harry's shoulders and Louis decided that this would be his task. He set Harry's leg down and moved back to give him more space on the couch. 

“Turn over,” he instructed. 

“Yes, Louis,” Harry said at once, and Louis smiled to himself. 

“Also take your shirt off,” said Louis and Harry complied, pulling the worn t-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. He could be quite good at doing what he was told. 

Harry laid down on his stomach, turning his head to the side and resting it on one folded arm. Louis climbed over his legs and straddled his hips, with the expanse of Harry's back in front of him. Louis kneaded the tightness from Harry's neck and shoulders, running his hands over Harry's skin, pressing with the sides of his thumbs and rubbing in circles with the heels of his hands. He was rewarded with little sounds from Harry, a hiss and a flinch when Louis found a knot and dug his fingers in, a sigh or a tiny moan as the stiff muscles released. And Louis was glad he was just wearing basketball shorts because he was getting extremely turned on, which Harry could probably guess. Louis could feel the expansion and contraction of Harry's ribs with every breath, could almost feel the beating of his heart. 

“Haz,” Louis murmured, and this time it came out with second thought. “You're making this very difficult for me...” He wanted to kiss along Harry's spine and fuck him into the sofa, at the very least. More if they'd had the time and the energy... he'd like to tie Harry's hands behind his back and gag him and tease him and not let him come until morning... But Harry was in no state for it, and Louis didn't want to pressure Harry into something he was clearly too tired for. Harry was always tired now. Louis knew he shouldn't be resentful of dance, because it was Harry's dream. But it used him up and left him exhausted, which is what Louis would have liked to be doing. 

“Want you to,” Harry mumbled, almost as if he could hear Louis's thoughts.

“Harry?” Louis asked, needing clarification. 

“It's been... it's been _ages,”_ said Harry- by which he meant, since last weekend. But there was need in his voice. He turned his head a little so that he could see Louis over his shoulder. 

“You’ve been so tired when you get home,” Louis leaned forward to stroke the back of Harry's neck, and twist his fingers into Harry's curls. “I didn't want to ask...” 

“I know,” said Harry “but I need it- you. Louis. Please?”

Louis laid across Harry for a moment, so that Harry could feel Louis's hard cock against the small of his back. “Let's go to bed, yeah?” He said into Harry's ear. Then he stood up, and offered Harry a hand. “I don’t think I can carry you there if you fall asleep on the couch.”

“Are you going to be such a horrible lay this evening that you put me to sleep?” Harry asked, standing up and raising an eyebrow lazily at Louis.

“Snarky in your sleepy state, aren’t you, Styles?” Louis chided.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Louis stopped him with a look and lead him to their bedroom. 

“Bed,” said Louis and he gave Harry a little push in that direction. Harry went and sprawled out on his back managing to take up almost the whole thing all by himself. Louis shrugged off his clothes, the little he had been wearing, and climbed up after. Louis immediately got on top and knelt over Harry with his knees against Harry's sides. He pinned Harry's hands down and at long last leaned down to kiss him. 

How many times a day did Louis think about kissing Harry? At least a hundred times an hour.  
Staring off into space at work during a quiet minute his mind would drift and he'd be thinking of Harry- of slow kisses and needy ones, biting kisses and soft kisses, quick late-to-work-have-to-leave kisses or the long kind that lead to grinding and the removal clothing. It had been fourteen hours since he'd last kissed Harry. He was starving for it. 

And Harry kissed him back, eager and deep, and he shivered when Louis's tongue entered his mouth. They were both breathless when Louis at last pulled back to lick and kiss instead at the angle of his jaw. 

“What were you thinking,” Louis murmured. “Just...?”

“Just fuck me,” Harry gasped. He had his eyes closed and his checks were flushed. 

“Mmm,” said Louis. He liked the sound the sound of that very much. 

He reached up to snag one of the tails of plain cotton rope that hung over the rail at the top of the bed and he tied back one of Harry's wrists, just two loose loops, nothing fancy. Harry liked having something to tug on. Louis had wondered, at first, if maybe they should not just- leave rope danging from the headboard. On the off chance they might actually have company someday. But he liked seeing it there when he woke up in the morning. If the world knew that sometimes he tied Harry to the bed and worked on him for hours, the world should be fucking jealous. 

“Don't go anywhere,” said Louis, and leaned over to dig out the lube from under the bed. He pulled Harry's pants off, and Louis had to admit- being in love with a dancer had it's draw backs but it also had some definite perks. Harry's body had been made for movement, and hours of training  
had shaped every line, every curve. Strong and pliant and lovely to look at. Christ, Louis was gone for him. 

Louis spread Harry's knees and kissed his thighs and slicked his fingers with lube. Harry had tilted up his hips and hooked one knee over Louis's shoulder. He squirmed when Louis started to tease at his rim with one finger. 

“Please-,” Harry started but his words were drowned in a moan as Louis pressed a finger in to the knuckle. Fuck, Harry was tight. Louis worked a second finger in as quickly as Harry could handle. Twisting and scissoring, he flicked his wrist and pressed at the spot which he knew made Harry buck and moan.

“Louis!” Harry cried as Louis rubbed the spot with his middle finger. “Please!”

“So polite,” Louis kissed the inside of his knee. “So good...”

“Louis- I need-,” Harry started but cried out as Louis slid in a third finger and pressed his prostate again.

“Need what, Haz?” Louis murmured, working his fingers in and out again.

“Need your cock,” Harry moaned. The fingers of his one free hand were digging into the sheets and gripping for purchase.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, leaning down to kiss his hip. “I’ve got you.”

Harry sighed in relief as Louis’s fingers were replaced with the tip of his cock. Louis slid in easily, making Harry moan again. He gave a few tentative thrusts, adjusting as he went, unsure how long either of them would last. Harry’s tight twitching heat was so good... he wanted it to go on and on. But he could tell from the arch in Harry’s back and his breathing that Harry wasn’t going to last long. Louis thrust up, knowing he could hit Harry’s prostate, rocking slowly against the spot, almost gently. Harry had curled the rope around his bound hand and was pulled against it desperately as Louis gradually coaxed him to orgasm. Harry gasping Louis’s name over and over, his voice feeding a fire that was building in Louis's belly. There was nothing in the world he liked more than the sound of his own name on Harry's lips. 

Louis had been careful up to now. But he wanted more, and harder, and Harry seemed to agree. Louis picked up the pace, grasping Harry’s hips and thrusting into him.

“Lou-,” Harry cried, throwing his head back. Louis folded himself over Harry’s body, needing to be closer and wanting a better angle. Harry arched upward into Louis’s warmth. Harry's orgasm took him suddenly and he cried Louis’s name as he came. Louis followed quickly- Harry shuddering as Louis filled him.

“Harry....” Louis kissed his stomach and ran his hands down Harry's sides as he pulled out slowly, worshipfully. He wasn't sure the awe would ever fade- the wonder that this was in his life again. That Harry was in his life again. 

“Love you,” Harry mumbled quietly, sleepily. His head was turned to the side and his voice was muffled into one of their pillows. But Louis heard, and his throat seemed to close up for a moment. It was the first time since... it was the first time in a very long while that Harry had said that. Louis crawled up beside him, and reached up to untie Harry's wrist which had been left, hanging limply from the cord. 

“I love you, too,” he told Harry, whispering in his ear and kissing his cheek. But there were things to be done still. “Going to clean us up.”

“Mh-hm,” Harry nodded, his eyes already closed.

Louis slipped off the bed to the bathroom for a washcloth. Thinking of cleaning up reminded him suddenly of all the dishes left sitting in the kitchen, the mess left after dinner. He considered them for a moment, but they could wait. He wanted to curl up beside Harry and never move. 

Harry was asleep by the time he got back.

Louis wiped up a little, then lay down and pulled a light blanket over both of them. He was going to learn how to make that fucking lasagna for Harry. He would cook Harry dinner every night for the rest of their lives. Louis resolved, for the ten thousandth time, that he would do everything in his power not to mess this up again, not when he had been given a second chance. Because Harry had muttered “Love you” as he fell asleep in their bed, and that was worth more than everything.

**Author's Note:**

> The two pubs that the boys visit in this story, The Duke and The Dark Horse are real- you can see a whole bunch of beautiful pictures of them both on the website [here](http://www.dukeofyorkbelfast.com/). The William Butler Yeats poem on the stairs is his "Cradle Song" with the lines reversed, as they look going up the steps. Thank you very much to [mybeanieandme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/profile) and [takeintoaccount ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/takeintoaccount/profile) for looking over this chapter for me!


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